


His Butler, Attentive

by thegirlwiththefandoms



Series: His Master, Evocative [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Age of Consent in my state is 16 so no underage warning, M/M, This will pretty much be plotless smut, aged-up ciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6264904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththefandoms/pseuds/thegirlwiththefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from the Kuroshitsuji Kink Meme </p><p>Prompt:</p><p>"Ciel is now 17, hormonal and bitchier than ever. It's grating on the Phantomhive staff and Sebastian almost close to pulling his hair out. He stumbles on Bardroy quipping about the young master needing to get laid. Sebastian comes up with a solution!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) Fanfiction, and my first attempt at publishing smut on AO3. Based on a prompt found here: http://kuroshitsuji-kink.dreamwidth.org/464.html?thread=6352#cmt6352.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own no intellectual property associated with Black Butler and do not intend to make any profit on this piece.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I said no, Lizzie!”  
  


The exclamation seemed to echo down the hall of the manor, catching the wind to distribute itself onto the ears of those in the Young Master’s employ.  


Though… he was not so young anymore, Sebastian mused. Perhaps there should be an underlying bitterness to the thought. After all, he had entered into the contract with a boy not yet thirteen with the promise of a fragrant soul crying out for consumption. The demon had been drawn to it so acutely that he would have torn the pliant and delicate flesh apart where Ciel Phantomhive had lain had the notion of cultivating it with the perfervid promise and eventual actualisation of vengeance not been so utterly attractive. Perhaps, admittedly, it had been a moment of oversight on the part of the butler. The boy had had no clear direction, after all, no target. But the being since renamed Sebastian had had the utmost confidence that the deed would be flawlessly carried out. And until then, he would simply make himself into one _hell_ of a butler.  


That had been nearly a half decade back. And there had been tumult and turbulence in the Young Master’s quest for his just revenge. Still, it eluded him, and each passing day left him bitter and further withdrawn. Of course, the King moved his pawns strategically and without hesitance over the outcome of each individual move; the pawns could fall as long as the final move won him the long sought right to a declaration of 'checkmate'. However, determined as he was, the board seemed ever-expanding. And at his back, a black knight waited, poised to do his King’s bidding so that he may one day revel in the sweet return on his efforts.  


And as he waited, the Young Master changed as humans are wont to do. Sebastian remained ever the same, but ever perceptive of deepening voices and limbs which had long since lost their coltish adolescence.  


As he aged, however, Ciel Phantomhive did not outgrow his ire. The verisimilitude of his taciturn expressions had not wavered in the least. As a matter of fact, the contempt which was left to fester inside of him only lent further validation to his overall sense of discontent. Unfortunately, with the lack of improvement of his own pneuma and the departure from any childlike need for over-compensation, the young earl had become difficult to placate in general. Often, a black cloud of ominous reaction hung over the boy’s head. On occasion, the Young Master’s stalwart control of himself slipped and his hackles raised or the beast inside of him leapt from its predatory crouch. Those moments always thrilled the butler, who could feel how they coloured a soul which still clung to a strange juxtaposing desire for heaven.  


Lady Elizabeth Midford had likely not committed so egregious a crime that she deserved the rebuke the Young Master offered her. However, Sebastian was curious. As he moved the trolley into his study, entirely unabashed by the situation, his crimson gaze quickly offered assessment. He could hardly allow his Master to behave in a manner not befitting his station. After all, he recalled a moment years ago when he had had to halt an intended strike in its tracks.  


The tension painted the air as Ciel stood behind his desk, entire form reading irritation from the tightly curled fists to the cut of his sharply angled jaw to the flashing of his blue gaze. Lady Elizabeth, for her part, had withered under that gaze, making herself small. Her mouth opened and closed in a manner which rather mimicked the whitefish that Sebastian had elected to prepare for their supper that night. As she groped for words which would not come and Ciel showed no indication of checking his outburst, Sebastian smoothly filled the silence.  


“Forgive me for the intrusion, Young Master,” he began, breaking the tension and leaving Elizabeth trembling slightly even as she moved to clasp her hands in front of her in an attempt to conceal it. “But I thought you and Lady Elizabeth might like to take afternoon tea? I have prepared a titillating oolong--”  


“Not now, Sebastian,” Ciel snipped, moving to sit stiffly. “Lizzie was just leaving.”  


At the assertion, the doe-eyed blonde who had come into her womanhood with grace looked up. “L-leaving?” She questioned. “But Ciel, I--”  


“Please, Lizzie. I am very busy and have only just come to realise how much there is to be done. After all, as the holidays draw near, new products need to be approved and reviewed in time for Christmas.” He did not look up as he lifted a fountain pen in a far less precise grip than usual. His penmanship would suffer for it, Sebastian knew. “A visit would be more convenient at a later date.”  


In spite of her now trembling lower lip, Sebastian was actually pleasantly surprised by the straight back beneath the frankly garish gown she wore. “All right,” she said in a choked off little voice.  


“Finny will be happy to escort you to your carriage.”  


Clearly finished with her, Ciel closed off his posture even further. The dismissal could not be more evident.  


Watching as Lady Elizabeth rushed from the room, Sebastian quirked a brow before he felt a smirk painting his lips. His gaze slid to his Master. “My my, Young Master,” he commented. “What subject could Lady Elizabeth have broached to so displease you?” Though generally the source of marked upheaval in the Phantomhive household, Elizabeth’s visits were hardly a source of true vexation. At least, not usually.  


“I don’t believe it is the place of the help to question his Master’s private affairs,” Ciel groused, setting down his pen.  


“Forgive me, sir,” Sebastian responded, laying a hand over his heart. “I simply inquire as a loyal servant concerned for the health of his employer, mental or otherwise.”  


Pinching the bridge of his nose, the earl gave a sigh. He had aged so. Rather than playing at maturity, as he had when he was younger, this Ciel was far closer to actually matching the age he had always tried so diligently to embody.  


“That will be all, Sebastian,” he returned, unwilling even to banter.  


Irritation flashed over the butler’s face; he was not one for dismissal. He was surely not Lady Elizabeth’s equal, even if he portrayed her lesser. “How very rare for my Master to have nothing more to say.”  


“I said get out!” Ciel snapped.  


His outburst didn’t even have Sebastian flinching. Instead, he simply sighed and moved to wheel the trolley out.  


“Leave the tea,” came the earl’s voice behind him.  


Smirking, he let his gloved hands release the trolley before crossing the floor and leaving the study.  


It seemed that the Young Master was in one of his blacker moods that day. No matter. Sebastian would fulfill his duties whether Ciel was appreciative or not. His fingers lifted his timepiece from its place, letting it flick open.  


“Nearly five-thirty,” he mused to himself. “I do hope Bardroy hasn’t managed to soil the whitefish.”  


As Sebastian approached the kitchen, his gait slowed to the catlike creep of a predator stalking its prey. From the ajar door, he could hear the three voices that were the mark of his onslaught of duties to the Phantomhive household.  


“Did you see Lady Elizabeth,” came the good natured voice belonging to Finny. The boy was soft-hearted and always had been. It was an irony not lost on Sebastian as he considered the herculean strength he possessed.  


“I saw her,” the grating female voice which could only belong to Mey-Rin responded. “She looked a right mess, she did. She and the Master must’ve been quarrelin’.”  


“They fight all the time now,” the much more masculine baritone belonging to the supposed Chef asserted. “It’s ‘cause the Master’s always in a foul mood all the time.”  


Sebastian raised a brow, partly inclined to interrupt the discussion if only because gossip was unseemly. However, he did wonder at the others’ assessment of Ciel’s behaviour. They were rarely of any use to the butler, who could and regularly did, perform their duties in addition to his own. But there were times. Times when their humanity actually offered Sebastian some insight he might not have previously considered. While he was loathe to admit to any deficiency in his ability to do what was expected of him as a butler and as a guardian of sorts over the Young Master, he could acknowledge that he was, in fact, a demon. Therefore, his muted connection to the human condition could sometimes hinder him in the more… interpersonal of the Young Master’s affairs.  


“You’re right,” Mey-Rin responded. “He was never too cheerful-like, but lately he’s been real on edge. Wish we could help ‘im.”  


“Me too,” Finny agreed.  


With a short laugh, Bardroy was quick to answer. “Well, if any of us was gonna help him, Mey-Rin’d be the best candidate for the job.”  


“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, Bard?” The possible candidate in question piped up, voice shrill.  


“All I’m sayin’ is that the Master’s at a tender age, you know? And far as I know, he and Lady Elizabeth ain’t never done nothing more’n hand holdin’ an’ maybe kissin’ sometimes.”  


“ARE YOU SUGGESTIN’ THAT THE MASTER… THAT HE….” Mey-Rin’s voice choked off, clearly too horrified to finish the thought.  


“That’s just me theory on the whole thing,” Bard shot back. “I was a seventeen year old once, too. I just knows how frustratin’ things can get.”  


Oh. Oh dear. Sebastian cocked his head, considering what Bard had suggested. That was an intriguing notion indeed. The Young Master was, of course, changing in so many ways. And Sebastian was not ignorant to the more… concupiscent aspects of those changes. After all, he was in charge of seeing to his Master’s sheets. He no longer oversaw his baths, but he didn’t need to. Half the time, he could smell spikes in hormonal activity. As of yet, he knew the emissions to be involuntary, perhaps brought about by some particularly lewd imaginings, but it hardly mattered. The changes were evident whether intentional or not. And, being the creature he was, the notion sometimes sent a wash of interest over his own body. But Ciel remained innocent still, untouched. Sebastian would have known if that had changed.  


And perhaps Bardroy’s musings might be of some use. After all, as much as Ciel’s outbursts and rageful retorts amused the demon, even he could admit to some desire for reprieve which so rarely came.  


And, in spite of himself, there was a part of him that did in fact care about his Master’s general well-being. Perhaps he should consider testing the validity of Bard’s theory. After all, if he couldn’t see to the needs of his Master--all of them, if necessary--what kind of a butler would he be?


	2. Realisation

Sebastian was yet undecided on the implication of the necessary steps to properly gauge the validity of Bard’s theory. However, with careful thought in substitute for the all-too human need for somnolence, Sebastian had begun to truly wonder if such an activity would truly ameliorate the situation in which the entire staff and all of Ciel’s remaining acquaintances had found themselves. After all, all of their lives connected to and were severely affected by the adulteration of the Young Master’s moods. It surely inhibited the completion of certain duties when days were interrupted by ringing bells which resulted in venomous orders barked from a disgruntled employer. And when said orders were carried out, it was never to the standard Ciel believed he wanted. Sebastian despised repetition where it was unnecessary. He did, of course, adhere to any order issued by his Master, but he could recognise churlish projections of internal upset when he saw them.

Still, he wasn’t entirely sure his advances, were he to elect that he should make them, would be entirely accepted. He knew that with a certain intensity he could overwhelm the young and inexperienced lord, but Ciel had surprised him before with an obstinate nature which could only be found in a child but which hadn’t quite abandoned the near-adult. Should he rebuke Sebastian, there was always the possibility that it would lead to the escalation of an already undesirable situation. There was also the concern of possible trauma inflicted by the cult which had kept him so resolutely imprisoned. After all, the Angel of Massacre-- what a joke that was--did so thoroughly revel in remarking upon the impurity of his Young Master’s body. Perhaps he had underestimated the lengths to which they had gone to ensure truth in her words. For Sebastian's part, he had never taken any issue in the state of the earl's body or the soul it housed. As a matter of fact, he saw none of the impurity the angel had seen. Instead, the darkness he _did_ perceive could only be counted as so intensely _Ciel_ that Sebastian would resent any alteration or removal whatsoever. 

Regardless of his concerns, if the frequency of the Young Master’s dream-induced emissions elucidated the potential for Bard to be proven correct, then it was still something to consider. 

In spite of it, Sebastian wished to be sure.  
  


The following night found Sebastian making his way to Ciel’s study, as with every night before it, to inform him that it was surely time for the young lord to retire. While he wasn’t fettered by a curfew, per se, Sebastian knew that there was a comfort in the banality of routine for Ciel. And so, he pushed the door open only to find the earl dozing with his cheek upon his fist. Perhaps, then, he would not be such a terror when Sebastian suggested that it might be time for bed. 

“My lord,” he ventured, moving to rest his hand upon the other’s shoulder to roust him. 

Ciel offered a small groan before his eyes fluttered open. “Yes, what is it?” He demanded in a groggy voice which only belied how tired he was. Poor little lord, always working himself to the bone. Not to death, of course. Not on Sebastian’s watch. But overworking nonetheless. 

“It is near midnight, sir,” Sebastian explained. “I thought it would be best for my lord to retire.” 

Ciel was silent for a moment, as if searching for a reason to be combative. When he could find none, however, he acquiesced with a nod. 

“Yes, very well.” 

“Shall I draw you a bath, sir? Or would you perhaps prefer to forgo it for the night?” 

“I will bathe tomorrow night,” the earl agreed as he moved past his butler and into the hall. 

“Very well.” With ritualistic ease, Sebastian fell into step with the younger and smaller male, following him to his room before holding the door open so that both could enter. 

Setting the candelabra upon the nightstand as he done each night for the past five years, Sebastian waited for the young lord to perch upon the edge of the great bed. When he complied, Sebastian dropped into a crouch to begin untying Ciel's shoes and laying them aside. The socks followed before he moved to the ascot about his Master’s neck. It and the pin holding it in place were set aside followed by coat, vest, and shirt. The fresh cotton scent of a newly clean nightshirt tickled the air as the butler unfolded the garment and pulled it with practiced ease over Ciel’s head. The earl, for his part, did not speak, simply allowing his butler to do his job. Sebastian could thank sleepiness for that, he believed. Because, even now, a more alert Ciel might have quipped on some displeasure of his or other. 

As the nightshirt covered the earl’s chest, Sebastian felt his mind working as he moved to remove Ciel’s trousers. Ensuring that the motion appeared entirely absent, he ran his fingertips up the Young Master’s thighs on their journey to the button holding the garment in place. One less perceptive and aware of their master might not have noticed the subtle hitch in breath, the sudden but very slight tensing of his muscles. Sebastian, however, did notice them. And as he slid the garment down pale legs, he let his fingertips absently run the length of those gentle and delicate limbs. Though he had aged, there would always be a nigh girlishness to Ciel’s features, his body. It was undeniable in the line of his legs, the slightness of his waist, and the thinness of his shoulders and chest. He was forever a child in some ways, and Sebastian found it fascinating. He could imagine no other way for Ciel to be, of course. Particularly not with the way the essence of who he was danced under the surface of the milky skin. 

Hm. It would be all too easy for the demon to let himself desire the master. He already could muster carnal stirrings even at light touches. So the experience might not be unenjoyable to Sebastian on a merely physical level. However, it would be on the visceral plane that Sebastian would take his most acute pleasure. The plane which allowed him the knowledge that his fingers would be the first to touch Ciel, should he choose to deflower the boy in hopes of seeing to the alleviation of some of his horrid frustration which was so exasperating to all the others. 

The subtle brushes of fingers were not enough to grant Ciel adequate cause to call the butler on lascivious intention, but were certainly sufficient in raising pebbled flesh and inviting Ciel’s pearly white teeth to close over his lower lip. Idly, Sebastian wondered what his own teeth would look like pulling at the plushness of his skin. He considered even as he moved to pull away, feigning perfunctory obliviousness. 

“You know, my lord,” he commented idly as he set to folding Ciel’s discarded clothing. “I have often wondered at the great size of your bed.” 

Setting the clothing aside, his hand drew back the covers, inviting the earl to settle beneath them. Ciel, for his part, did not move for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the demon. 

“And why should you wonder about that?” He demanded. 

“An idle thought, my young lord. But it is such a large piece of furniture. Surely it could comfortably accommodate multiple personages.” He kept his tone flippant, nonchalant, as he waited for Ciel to slide under the bedclothes he still kept aloft and waiting for him. 

A charming blush sprang to Ciel’s face before he shook his head. “I daresay such musings are inappropriate,” the young earl managed, finally moving to slip beneath the covers. “And aren’t fit for an earl and his butler to discuss.” 

Smirking as he lay the duvet and sheets into their place around the young lord, Sebastian inclined his head. “Forgive me, sir. Of course it isn’t something to discuss. After all, my idle curiosity will surely be satiated when the wedding to Lady Elizabeth fills the house with her people. At that point, my young master will not be so alone in such a large bed.” 

The blush darkened to scarlet. “I’m in bed now. You can go,” he snapped, perhaps a bit more aggressive than he had intended to be. But he was not so opaque that Sebastian didn’t see his deflections. He had always been transparent when it came to his own delicate sensibilities. 

“Of course, sir,” Sebastian said, offering a bow at the waist. “Sleep well, my young lord.” 

Even as the door closed, Sebastian knew that tonight was a special sort of night. He was not prepared to go about the duties which normally occupied his evenings before the other servants began to drop from exhaustion. Instead, he would not be far from the Master’s room at all. He needed to observe, after all, if his subtle attempts to foment Ciel’s libidinous urges had been successful. 

As silence fell upon the hall and he watched through the tiniest crack in the door, the boy earl began to move restlessly beneath the weight of his duvet. The butler’s brow quirked, taking it in but preparing to wait for what he did hope would undoubtedly come. He had, after all, offered potential for the young boy to fantasize about men--him--or a young lady--Elizabeth--in making less than proper insinuations and in offering, albeit subtle, physical stimulation. He was disappointed, therefore, when the rustling stopped and the breath he could hear easily in the darkness grew rhythmic and steady. Ciel had fallen asleep. 

Brow furrowing, Sebastian was surprised that he would have to concede defeat. After all, he was of the full belief that he understood Ciel’s body far better than even the young earl understood it in his own right. Perhaps he had been wrong. No matter, it seemed. There were other duties to be completed if Ciel was not going to take the bait the butler had so graciously set up. 

*** 

_Lizzie smells of Autumn: plums, crisp and clean air. It’s an entirely relaxing smell to Ciel as the pair sit side by side on the bench in the garden surrounded by snowy white roses gleaming in the dying sun overhead. The green of her eyes matches the waxy leaves of the bloom that he offers her, the picture of courtly affection. And yet, as she reaches to take the flower, he remains unmoved. She is beautiful now, yes, and her lovely flaxen curls now tumble over her shoulders rather than falling in ringlets from the tails she used to wear._

_A small cry, a flash of red. Ciel’s blue gaze fixates on the small bead of blood and he finds it far more intriguing standing out of the pale peach of her fingertip than he could ever find its owner. And it isn’t because he doesn’t care for her. But he also knows that she expects so much more than simply a fraternal fondness which could never truly graduate into anything more. In truth, he imagines the red bead of blood falling from between dimpled thighs and speckling the sheets beneath them. Perhaps her flaxen curls would look comely spread out like a halo on the pillows adorning their marriage bed, but even the thought of any of it leaves Ciel entirely unsettled, his brow furrowing._

_They are back on the bench, and he is still studying the blood that now runs down her hand and over her wrist. Before he can think to pull free the handkerchief he has in his sleeve, however, a gloved hand does it for him, providing a square of fine silk seemingly pulled from thin air. Ciel glances up and his breath catches at the sight of his butler, ever attentive, ever prepared to serve. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and Ciel cannot help but swallow at how his veins stand out in impossibly pallid flesh. There is a strength in Sebastian entirely contradicting the anemia of his complexion. He is monochrome. A black Knight. And yet he is so much more appealing for Ciel to study. Lizzie is expected, she is safety. And the young Phantomhive has not known the feeling of true safety in so long. He so rarely feels anything akin to security._

_That is… until Sebastian’s arms encircle him._

_He does so now and the garden melts away. Ciel is not entirely versed in the coupling of two men, but he has always been intelligent. Where he is not certain, his mind fills in the blanks. And so when Sebastian’s arms encircle him now, he is slicked in perspiration. Ciel feels so small in Sebastian’s grip as he feels the darkness in the butler beginning to overwhelm him. After all, he is a dark creature, and he has been since his parents’ death. He doesn’t belong with a girl like Elizabeth. Not when there is someone who calls to the darkness in him and doesn’t require him to play a role where it does not exist._

_He gasps as the butler’s teeth find his shoulder, head falling back at the sharp shot of pain. There is a headiness he cannot truly understand as bare chests press together. But he has never truly seen his butler so undressed, so without guard._

_Pouring him onto his back, Sebastian studies Ciel in a manner which both exhilarates him and leaves him feeling like a specimen. The intensity in the vermillion gaze has the boy’s back arching in some desperate plea for contact. And, made to follow orders, the butler can see even the unspoken ones. And so he drops his head, dragging his teeth over Ciel’s sternum before pressing febrile kisses burning like Hellfire over the alabaster of the young earl’s stomach. As his mouth creeps lower, Ciel feels anticipation rolling over him--_

*** 

Sebastian stood in the library, going through the tomes and arranging them in a more becoming setup. However, his long fingered hands paused when the faint call of his master, perhaps imperceptible to the human ear, caught the butler’s attention. It was not the call he usually received whenever Ciel was somehow in trouble or compromised. No. This was very different. And Sebastian could recognise desperation without really even considering it. 

The devious grin settled once more over the demon’s face as he moved to abandon the library to follow his master’s call. And as he neared the bedroom, the scent of Ciel’s exigency struck him, accosting his senses and only serving to widen the grin he wore. What could the young lord be doing calling for his butler when he was in such a state? Oh dear. Whatever would people say? Sebastian, for his part, was simply pleased that he had not actually been incorrect in the lead he had elected to follow in exciting the young earl. 

Peering through the crack in the door that he had left to allow for such inspection, the butler was not disappointed. For the restlessness beneath the coverlet that he had earlier observed had transformed into urgency that was nigh palpable. 

“ _Sebastian_ ,” Ciel bit out as his back arched into his hand. The man in question could not know the specifics of the movements performed, but he could deduce it easily enough even with the barrier of the coverlet. 

“Oh God,” the boy panted as his hand worked. 

What a time to be calling for God, Sebastian thought to himself. He, of course, held no respect for the deity, though he was entirely sure He existed. After all, He was employer to Reapers such as Will or Grell. Thoughts of the latter nearly had him falling out of his smugness. Of course, a desperate gasp for air drew him right back in. The young lord was pleasuring himself, and Sebastian, it seemed, was the bait he had elected to take. So it was subtle touches over insinuation which had caught Ciel’s fancy. Very well, then. 

It was with no sense of compunction that Sebastian remained stationed by the door, watching as Ciel kicked the blanket away and his head began to toss. He could make out the slightly paler knuckles of the hand which clung to the sheets beneath the writhing body, thanking his superior eyesight for that, and he found himself leaning in. His lips parted, as if he could taste the arousal in the air, and the butler eagerly awaited the moment that the little lord lost his control. 

And yet… it did not come. And it was surely not for lack of trying on Ciel’s part. After all, the fervid pump of his hand attested to the valiance of his attempt. And the tiny sounds that made their way out of his mouth promised that delicious moment where he would let go… but those soon gave way to growls that held no lust. Only frustration. 

Well… that was surely interesting, Sebastian mused as the boy finally ceased in his efforts only to lie staring up at the ceiling in some great agitation and no small amount of dejection. There was, perhaps, a flash of sympathy in Sebastian as a new understanding of Ciel’s foul moods surfaced. And he could, perhaps, step in to aid the boy. After all, intentional or not, he _had_ been summoned. 

However… there was perhaps fun to be had in this. In the subtle and rewarding process of driving his Master mad. And Sebastian was a demon. Mercy was not in his nature. Not really.


	3. Experimentation

“Sebastian!”

The butler let out a sigh. Since the night before, the young lord had been nothing short of a disaster. He was irritable, stalwartly dissatisfied, and entirely incorrigible in his mood swings. And what was worse, it seemed that there was nothing to be done for it. A lesser butler who did not anticipate the needs of his master might wonder at the reason for such discomfiture. Sebastian, however, recalled the growls of stunted frustration that had left Ciel’s lips the night before as he had arched desperately into his own hand. Of course, being the demon that he was, he had not wanted to step in in spite of the lustful mewls of his name leaving the young master in climacteric pants which were doomed never to reach their fruition. 

Perhaps his decision to push Ciel Phantomhive had been a selfish one. After all, in half of a day, the earl had managed to send Mey-Rin into a crying fit, leave Bardroy steaming, and Finny had run off into the garden--presumably with that blasted hound. Even Tanaka was taking his tea well away from the master’s study. And it seemed that Ciel wished to turn his ire upon his one unflappable servant. If he sought to fluster Sebastian, however, he would be hard-pressed to do so, particularly when the demon had be lying in wait all day for the optimum moment. 

“You called, young master?” He greeted, the picture of nonchalance as he stepped through the doorway. 

“Your typical attention to detail is slipping,” Ciel snipped, his fingers curled into fists on the table. However, it was not the fury-wrought reaction of a man enraged, as Ciel would have him think. No… Sebastian knew much better. 

“Oh?” He asked, still casual. “Do elaborate.” 

Ciel pushed forward the teacup resting at his elbow, the liquid sloshing over the rim to stain the saucer. “The cup,” he snarled. “Is it the custom to serve tea to the lord of the house on cracked china?” 

This was the grievance? Oh dear. How desperate the young lord must be for altercation of any kind if this was the best he could come up with. And yet, Ciel was in many ways still a child. The butler could humour him. 

“Oh dear,” he responded. “You are absolutely correct, sir. What a flagrant oversight on my part.” 

There was no crack in the china. Sebastian knew that it was an irrefutable truth because he personally ensured utmost perfection in all facets of the household, particularly that which was pivotal to the smoothness of providing all the necessities for the earl’s daily life. 

Seemingly surprised that Sebastian did not attempt to defend himself, the young lord’s brow furrowed, showing off his agitation. And yet, he could expect no less of his butler, who simply remained perpetually imperturbable. It incensed the confrontational lord, however, now that he was in arms against any and everything. This was not a difficult thing for Sebastian to ascertain, either. His lips twitched into a smirk as he continued. 

“And to think that you were left utterly without any of the _pleasure_ that should be afforded you,” he commented, moving to lift the teacup for assessment. If there was truly a crack in it, it would have been inflicted by Ciel simply to perpetuate a need for this conversation. And if the master desired tension, Sebastian had no choice but to deliver. And so he chose his words carefully, wine-coloured gaze lifting to study the boy, who had faltered despite himself. 

“Precisely,” Ciel recovered quickly. “What is the point of a butler if he cannot fulfill even the most menial of tasks?” He was attempting to pique ire in the demon, anger him. As if he had no regard for the consequences it could bring. How very like him. It almost turned Sebastian’s expression fond. There was, of course, the barest flash of irritation that his efforts were so disregarded. However, he knew better than to truly allow them to permeate his infallible calm. 

“You are correct, my lord. And I know as well as any that a satisfying afternoon tea is the climax of any stout Englishman’s day. I can hardly imagine your discomfort, being denied that _climax_.” He allowed his tongue to caress that final word, infusing it with sex but remaining subtle enough to avoid direct rebuke. 

Yet again, the earl faltered, and Sebastian could detect a rufescent tinge to his cheeks. “How utterly _frustrating_ for you,” he added, driving the point home. 

“I-Indeed.” 

“Do allow me to rectify this _swollen_ lapse, my lord.” 

He watched as Ciel swallowed, the red tinge augmented by further embarrassment. The boy cleared his throat. “Fine,” he managed. “Go.” 

Moving more quickly than Ciel could possibly perceive, the butler appeared just behind his master’s chair, bending to murmur in a slightly deeper voice, “I am always here to ensure your utmost _satisfaction_ , my young lord.” 

Ciel startled, body leaping to the other side of his chair as he swallowed yet again. “I get the idea,” he snapped. “Just take the bloody cup!” 

“Of course, sir.” 

As he lifted the cup again, he made his way from the study, but lingered long enough to hear the libidinous groan resulting from his lubricious behaviour. Poor little lord. If it weren’t so amusing, Sebastian might almost feel contrite.


	4. Resolution

Sebastian was confident that that night would take little prompting on his part. After all, the young lord was utterly insufferable at dinner after Sebastian’s suggestive contrition over a cracked teacup. The butler had sent the other servants away for the meal, anticipating as much. And Ciel had not disappointed, commenting darkly about the cook of the beef wellington, the quality of the wine, and the seasoning of the garnish. And Sebastian had, of course, accepted every criticism with grace so that he could further enrage Ciel. Of course, he had coupled his subtle goading with the barest of touches: the brush of fingers as he'd taken the flute to refill it, the brush of arm against shoulder as he resumed his place at the young lord’s back, and finally the strategic catching of a wayward droplet of chardonnay on the corner of Ciel’s mouth with a long finger. The final had even drawn a small gasp from the boy before he had snapped at his butler that he was finished. _Before_ dessert, Sebastian might add, which was truly a shame because the strawberries he had prepared had been expertly dipped in the finest of Funtom’s dark chocolate. No matter. He had seen Bardroy eyeing them the moment he had set them out. They would hardly go to waste.

After supper and the lord’s bath, Sebastian was there to accompany him to bed with the aid of the candelabra to light their way. It was a shame, perhaps, that he would be denied the opportunity to undress the earl. But he was sanguine in his belief that he had the boy where he wanted him. Bardroy’s theory would be put to the test that night. And there was almost a wanton desire surging through Sebastian’s own limbs as he considered the privilege he was about to take for himself. Sullying the delicate flower that was Ciel. His innocence would fall away beneath capable fingers and a talented tongue. And the scent of his soul as it thrummed under his flesh would be so sweet in the air, a beckoning nectar; Sebastian had to be sure to contain himself until he was called, but the notion already had his mouth watering. If he couldn’t take Ciel’s soul just yet--and he had been so utterly patient, then he thought it well within his right to take his rewards in other ways. It wasn’t as if he had never considered the prospect before Bard’s brazen suggestion. Of course he had. There had been a marked tension between the pair since the contract was forged. However, Sebastian had also been well aware of Ciel’s own lack of ability to possibly field such physical intimacy with the demon. And so Sebastian had played the doting guardian. But, as Ciel evolved, it seemed only fitting that the way he used his butler should do the same. 

As he laid the bedclothes over Ciel and bid him good night, he could feel the request caught in Ciel’s throat; it brought Sebastian no small amount of satisfaction. 

It was hardly an hour later before Sebastian scented the desperation coming from his master’s room. Completing his arrangement of the freshly polished silver in the cupboard which housed it, he made his way up toward said desperation. His name was on the tip of his lord’s tongue, and Sebastian would be there the moment he was properly summoned. But he wanted the satisfaction of appearing when he was called. After all, Ciel could not then reproach him or deny his own desires if it were he who was the instigator of the entire affair. 

Sweat already rose on Ciel’s brow as Sebastian sighted him in the darkness, panting and arching into his own touch. A tiny whimper punctuated his movements, a whimper which Sebastian wanted to swallow. But he could bide his time. 

“Fuck,” came a laboured gasp. And there was something about the use of profanity that excited the butler, who felt a tightening in his stomach as he waited. And, ever eager to please even if he denied it, Ciel complied. “ _Sebastian_.” 

Spying his cue, the butler approached the bed on silent feet, long fingers divesting his hands of the gloves he wore. No use soiling them, after all. Now, he took in the straining chest and arching back before reaching down to run naked fingers over febrile flesh. “You called, master?” 

His voice jolted the young lord out of his desperate attempts to reach some nirvana which continued to elude him. His hand left his own length as he shot up. “Sebastian!?” Came the scandalised tone. 

The butler settled on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting on Ciel’s chest. “Indeed,” he answered calmly, even if the scent of the boy was enough to make him want to sink his teeth into pliant alabaster flesh if only to taste the echoes of his soul in his rushing blood. “You called for me.” 

“I-I…” Ciel floundered. 

“Hush,” Sebastian chided, moving to shrug out of his tailcoat so that he could roll up his sleeves. “Clearly my young master is in need of some assistance. And if I couldn’t see to that, what kind of a butler would I be?” 

The action of revealing his forearms had Ciel’s eyes locking onto the flex of muscles as he moved, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he imagined them working in service of… other tasks. “I don’t know if--” 

“Please, my lord. Lie back.” 

Still utterly shaken, Ciel could only comply. Such a good boy he was, though Sebastian wouldn’t dare utter such sentiments aloud only to have the boy protest and push him away. This was a delicate game to be played. Each move had to be made with care. And so, as his master lay back, Sebastian leaned forward to murmur, “Tell me how I touch you when you dream.” 

A small gasp left Ciel, who was entirely without words. How could he tell Sebastian? In what world could he possibly be expected to express such things? He struggled to wrap his lips around any discernible words, mouth working without the aid of any sound. Finally, a long finger pressed against his lips. “Perhaps I should guess,” the demon purred before leaning in to run his tongue over the straining jugular of Ciel’s delicate neck. 

“Do I…?” He nipped at the earl’s neck, drawing a mewl from him, his eyes falling closed. “Or perhaps I…?” His nips turned to torturous teasing of the soft flesh, sucking and worrying it between his lips. The attentions had Ciel’s hips canting and his breath coming in pants as one arm moved to fall across his eyes. Sebastian gave a self-satisfied smirk as he pulled back to inspect the rising bruise on the master’s neck. He wished he had had the good sense to bring the candelabra, because he could only imagine the headiness of watching Ciel’s writhing beneath the flickering orange light. No matter. Perhaps next time. Now, however, he ran his fingers down the earl’s torso to close his hand around the straining symbol of Ciel’s need. “I know I must pay you such close attention _here _,” he purred, stroking slowly.__

Ciel cried out, his chest heaving as he panted. “Oh God,” he bit out. 

“I hardly think that’s appropriate,” Sebastian teased sure as his hand did. The fervid little thrusts up into his fist spoke to the need his touches solicited and he hummed. “My my,” he commented. “Look at my young lord. So nubile. So soft.” 

Ciel choked. “S-Sebastian.” 

His hand stilled as he shook his head. “In due time, my sweet lord. Mustn’t be impatient.” 

The whine that left Ciel was nothing short of pitiful as his arm fell back across his eyes. Sebastian, for his part, to divest himself of his waistcoat and leave his shirt hanging open. Satisfied with his own undress, he caught Ciel’s wrists. “Look at me, my young lord.” 

Ciel couldn’t. The depravity of it all had his eyes remaining resolutely shut even as his body craved what the demon offered. 

Sebastian, for his part, didn’t like being ignored. “Now now,” he prompted, moving to run his tongue over the earl’s skin. Ciel’s eyes shot open as the butler’s mouth found the sensitive nub of his nipple, closing around it to lave and suck. The earl’s erection still strained, but the sensations were all so much. Sebastian was back to letting himself mark Ciel’s pearlescent flesh with eager teeth that had the boy jerking against his mouth. His hands ran gentle paths over the young lord’s sides and down his hips. However, he resolutely refused to touch his master where he so vitally craved contact. Sebastian wanted him tremulous, whimpering. If he could utterly dissemble his master inch by inch, he would so cheerfully do so. And based on his reactions, it was precisely what Ciel wanted. The smirk was back at Sebastian’s lips as he kissed down the young master’s sternum and his tongue flicked, clever and knowing, against his abdomen before dipping into his navel. Below him, Ciel’s frantic insufflations had his chest heaving so prettily. But really, Sebastian craved something a bit more aurally significant. He had every confidence that he would achieve that as his nimble fingers caught thin legs and lifted them over his shoulders. His teeth were busy against the boy's inner thigh before long, leading Ciel to go onto his elbows with a becoming little furrow between his brows. He gave the knowing hum as his mouth dipped lower and his fingers parted the young lord to the pleasure of his roving gaze. 

So pink and sweet. Like a little rose. However, he again didn’t voice his sentiments. After all, Ciel was so predictable in his sensibilities, particularly to his butler who had served his every whim and anticipated every need before it was ever uttered to him. 

Bending down, a hungry tongue laved at the ring of that little rose. A high cry fell from Ciel’s lips as he collapsed back onto his pillows. 

“Sebastian,” Ciel choked out. “That’s… foul.” In spite of the words, his body jerked with the sweet pleasure of another pass of the demon’s searing tongue. “P-perverse.” His words were punctuated by another utterance that had the butler smirking before he pulled back. No more societally enforced protestations were spoken, however, when that clever tongue pressed inside and had Ciel going tight with the foreign nature of it all. Sebastian’s fingers were soft as they ran up the length of the earl’s body to tweak at one delicate nipple in hopes of relaxing him under his ministrations. HIs tongue worked as diligently at this task as he did at any of his duties, determined to leave his master boneless and entirely spent by the end of this encounter. 

“Fuck,” Ciel breathed as his body began to relax and his hips were back to bucking and trying for more and more. Such a greedy little lord, so desperate in his newfound appetence. Satisfied, Sebastian pulled back so that he could slip his fingers between Ciel’s gasping lips. 

“If you would be so kind, master,” he purred to the earl, who already looked so strung out on pleasure. Excellent. However, the affections of his touch had not simply had their effects on his young master. This body craved as much as any human’s did. And so as Ciel sucked at his fingers, the butler let out a long sigh. “Very good, sir,” he breathed out before pulling newly moistened digits from such willing lips. Of course, his next move was to pull the young lord into his lap, his own body throbbing for sweet physical connection. 

Circling the master’s entrance delicately, he was back to offering attention to the young lord's neck--below where his shirt collar would fall, of course. As he pressed his finger inside to breach pubescent heat with a deadly precision to avoid the inevitable discomfort as much as possible, he coaxed Ciel’s hips to move against his. A growl left Sebastian as a small cry answered him. 

“You must try to relax, my lord,” he whispered into the earl’s ear before nipping at his earlobe. “We cannot progress if you don’t.” 

“Sebastian,” he panted in response. “It feels… tight.” 

“I know, sir,” he answered. “But you must trust me in this.” His finger still worked to open the little lord to him, but he was yet met with resistance. How like Ciel. His free hand coaxed thin hips to move against his again, offering Ciel the barest sliver of control over his own pleasure and his butler’s in hopes that it would offer him a bit more security so that he could more easily relax. Fortunately for them both, Ciel seemed to enjoy the act of moving against him very much, as he repeated the action and his body began to comply with Sebastian’s wishes, allowing first one finger and then a second. 

Sebastian had to suck in a hard breath in his own right as Ciel’s eager hips sought to bring about his own undoing. His crimson eyes flashed as his arm curled around the young lord and he allowed his fingertips to press against a spot inside of his master that had another delicate keen leaving his throat. 

“Again,” he begged, voice lost in amorous desire. “Please, Sebastian.” 

_Please?_ Well, well. And the earl had always been stalwart in his effort towards brattish refusal for politesse where his butler was concerned. 

“Who am I to deny you?” He growled, voice having pitched lower with the stimulation. His fingers worked now, massaging at the bundle of nerves to have a string of expletives and moans stifled by how the earl buried his face in the demon’s neck. He ground down as Sebastian added a third finger and his young master took him so easy. How beautiful they would look when Ciel’s heat threatened to burn even him. The thought had the butler’s free hand moving to undo his own trousers, letting himself free from the wretched confines of the fabric. 

As fingers slid from a whining Ciel, Sebastian drew a phial of oil from his vest pocket. He had, of course, prepared for this moment, but now that it was upon him he found himself overcome with the succulent thrum of the soul he could taste beneath the perspiring flesh of Ciel’s chest. His movements turned perhaps a bit clumsier as his reason slipped for the barest of moments and his length was slicked. The butler now ached right alongside his master and it was all he could do to lean in and finally catch the boy’s lips in a dastardly kiss that had the earl’s hands shaking and slipping into the demon’s hair. 

The heat of him was sublime, almost surreal in its intensity. And as Ciel’s body slowly accepted Sebastian, backs arched and hands clawed before the demon’s face was buried in the boy’s neck now. The pair lay hideously still for long moments seemingly counted down by pants penetrating the blackness of the room. 

“Dammit,” came the eventual voice of the boy, overcome by all of it. “Move, Sebastian.” 

Beads of moisture had formed on the demon’s forehead now, and yet he couldn’t resist the amused if tight: “Is that an order?” 

“God, yes,” Ciel bit out, knuckles of one hand white from curling in the sheets as his legs locked around Sebastian’s hips. 

The demon didn’t need to be told twice as he gave a shallow thrust and a growl that mingled with the choked off sound from Ciel. Neither could articulate much more as his hips worked. Sebastian leaned forward to brace himself on the bed, listening as the already trembling breaths became sobbing hitches of air. He watched Ciel’s face, catching his chin. The earl’s eyes were squeezed close as he shook his head, silently demanding of the demon not to stop even as his chest heaved harder than it ever had before. A pretty rose blush was beginning to spread over his chest, staining porcelain with crimson. 

Ciel couldn’t help but breathe his name yet again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Sebastian pressed ever closer, brow furrowed in concentration. Encouraged by his master’s reactions and now seeking to find his own pleasure as well as offer Ciel his, Sebastian went up onto his knees and pulled out almost completely, only to press back in. The first time he did it, it earned him another moan before the heavy breaths from before began again. Then, another moan. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected Ciel to sound like when he lay beneath him like this, but he did know that a lesser being might have allowed himself to slip into the sweet abyss of insanity if presented with the way that Ciel’s ready body clung to his length and wordlessly begged for his re-entry each time he let himself slip nearly free only to bury himself deep again. 

More sobbing breaths as Ciel’s fingers caught the pillows now, his neck arching to present to the demon as steady whimpers evolved into mewls to capitalise each breath he released. Sebastian slowed his pace experimentally, the sound of Ciel’s pleasure the only one in the room as Sebastian stifled his growls in abject curiosity. Soon, he began to rock into that heat in earnest, when he was sure that the young master could endure it. He redoubled his efforts once more, wondering at the emotions going through the young lord. After all, there was so much that the boy kept from others. Sebastian had long since learned to read the subtlety of emotion, but now, clouded by his own heavy hunger both sexual and metaphysical, the skill eluded him. 

Faster, and Ciel’s cries began to reach for that delicious precipice. His eyes were open now, wide as his small and thin fingers tangled into Sebastian’s raven locks. The lavender glow between them only spoke to their heightened connection as the contract branded into Ciel's eye announced it to them. Sebastian’s hand glowed like a beacon as well against Ciel’s alabaster skin, neither able to speak or communicate other than the expression of pleasure and the slide of Sebastian’s body. 

It was when Ciel’s back arched with a slick announcement of his final release that Sebastian let go. His hips moved with abandon before he soon followed, his own thick seed filling the young earl. It marked him in a way that the contract never could and Sebastian was sure that there would be undoubted magnetism between the two of them which transcended any previous tensions that had been present. 

He wanted to bite him, to part his skin so he could run his tongue over beading blood. He would be able to truly taste the traces of his soul then. He craved it. And yet, he daren’t. This was not the time. It had been an experiment in improving the young master’s mood. Biting him surely would counteract his efforts. He mustn’t have that. And so, as the sweat began to cool on their skin, he pulled back and slipped free of the now almost mocking heat. He was hungry now; it was a hunger he knew could not be satiated by any but Ciel but would not be taken care of at all. He schooled his face, however, so as not to give himself away. 

“Will that be all, my young lord?” He asked the still panting boy as he moved to get up. However, he was stopped by a deceptively strong grip at his wrist. 

“Sebastian,” came the earl’s voice. “Stay with me until I fall asleep.” 

It was not a request he had never heard, though the context was certainly different and Sebastian had thought the earl had grown out of it. However, he gave a half smile far more sincere than his usual smirk before allowing himself to settle in beside the young master so that he could gather the boy to him. “Of course,” he breathed.  
  


The following morning, the servants stood nervously at the bottom of the stairs, prepared to greet the young master as they always did before he took his breakfast. They had never before considered it a chore, but lately with his temper there was always the fear of somehow setting the young earl off. 

Mey-Rin looked to Bard as they stood waiting. “Suppose he’s in a worse mood than before,” she said nervously, voice tight and strained as she glanced with trepidation up the stairs. 

The cook shook his head. “I don’t think even the young master could manage a _worse_ mood,” he said. “I still think he just needs a good--” 

“Good morning, young master!” Finny greeted, aiming for brightness and speaking loud enough to shut the other two up before they got into trouble. 

Gasping as they realised, both Mey-rin and Bard snapped to attention, nodding. “Yes, good mornin', sir. We hope--whaa…” 

The boy coming down the stairs couldn’t truly be the same Ciel Phantomhive that had been such a terror for the past few weeks, could it? Because this Ciel Phantomhive wore a crushed purple suit that he seldom wore; it had been a gift from Lady Elizabeth, who had claimed that it was utterly adorable at the time of purchase. It had been reluctantly accepted, and then banished to the young master’s wardrobe never to be seen again. Now, he did not even seem put out that he wore it at all. 

“Yes, good morning,” Ciel allowed, looking at the servants before gracing them with another uncharacteristic thing: a half smile. They did so endeavour to make the young lord smile, but it so rarely came to fruition. Now, as the expression fell across his features, Bard, Mey-rin, and Finny exchanged excited expressions of their own before Ciel spoke again. “I wish for the three of you to see to the garden this morning. Lady Elizabeth will be coming to call upon the manor at three o’clock. Sebastian will see to the roses, of course.” 

“You can count on us, sir,” the three chimed, followed by a sound of affirmative from Tanaka, who watched the proceedings over his teacup. 

“I certainly hope so,” Ciel said. With that, he made his way into the dining room, Sebastian moving to follow. 

“Did you see that?” Mey-rin asked the other two with excitement. “He actually seemed in good spirits, he did.” 

“I know,” Finny agreed. “Maybe things are looking up for the young master!” 

None of them noticed as they made their way out to the garden the expression on the face of a certain butler. But then, a butler performed his duties without the expectation of any sort of validating acknowledgement. And Sebastian was, as always, one hell of a butler.


End file.
